


Six Souls and a Skeleton

by kgmps2



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Papyrus Knows More Than He Lets On, Papyrus gets a bad idea, SOUL absorption, Undertale Reset Issues, well not really a bad idea
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 18:58:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13129998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kgmps2/pseuds/kgmps2
Summary: Upon considering the potential outcomes of a human/monster war, Papyrus decides to take matters into his own hands and absorb the six human souls.





	1. Integrity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AnonJ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonJ/gifts).



Papyrus paced through Snowdin Forest, thinking. His boots left fresh footprints in the snow, and he made minor adjustments to the traps he’d set up a week before. Seeing so many perfectly prepared puzzles filled him with pride, but it also frustrated him to know he was the only one who seemed to care about the age-old tradition of setting up puzzles throughout the cavern to impede human invaders. Did nobody else in the town have any respect?

It wasn’t that he felt a great need to keep up with traditions for the sake of upholding old-fashioned values, but there was a good reason to set up puzzles throughout Snowdin Forest. A seventh human could fall into the Underground any day now, and Papyrus’ puzzles could very well be the deciding factor in their safe capture and delivery to the king!

He was bent over one of the path puzzles, the ones with the Xs and Os and ∆s, when he heard the familiar sound of something popping out of the snow behind him. He turned around, excitement dancing in his eye sockets.

“Flowey!”

The flower in question giggled.

“Howdy, Papyrus. Hard at work as usual, I see!”

“That’s right! What brings you out here this morning?”

“What, a flower can’t visit the coolest skeleton in Snowdin for no reason? Well, not that that’s a steep competition.”

“Hey, my brother is very cool!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Anyways, I just wanted to chat! Everything’s a lot more boring when you’re not around.”

Papyrus didn’t react visibly to that last sentence, but it made his soul feel heavy. It was hard to get Flowey to talk about his _own_ problems, obvious though it was that he had them. But Papyrus was determined to get through to his friend someday. It was only right to want to help out a friend as devoted as Flowey was.

Instead, he grinned even wider than his skull already did.

“Why, thank you for the compliment! I’m happy to talk with you any day! Is there something on your mind?”

“Oh, well, I guess I’m just wondering how _you’re_ doing. Are you changing that puzzle up, or just making sure it still works?”

“Well! I was going to double check everything, because some fresh snow blew down from those upper cave shelf things last night. But now that you mention it, this puzzle doesn’t look too easy, does it? If a human can solve it effortlessly, it’ll never slow them down enough to capture them!”

“Good thinking. From where I’m standing… I can’t see any of it! It’d certainly stop me!”

“Flowey, we both know you could burrow under any obstacle you wanted.”

“Hee hee! It sure is a good thing the Royal Guard isn’t out to capture me. I mean, I don’t even have anything they want!”

Papyrus nodded thoughtfully, standing up to survey the puzzle. He knew about Flowey’s unique condition, of course, but it seemed he was in a bit of a cagey mood today. On good days, he’d talk openly about his past life, about how he no longer had a soul. (But he _still_ wouldn’t say how he knew so much about nearly everything, or how he was able to make such accurate predictions and deliver almost prophetic advice. Papyrus had some running theories, but none of them seemed to explain everything.)

“Right. If they were, though, they’d probably put the pressure on me to capture you myself! Seeing as we’re so close and all.”

This earned a _real_ laugh, more open than Flowey’s usual giggle.

“Golly, Papyrus, I can’t believe our friendship means so little that you’d turn me in like that!”

“I didn’t say I would! Although, if I was a member of the Royal Guard, Undyne would probably just order me to hand you over.”

Flowey’s expression soured, just a little, and Papyrus winced. He hadn’t realized that was a sore spot.

“What’s wrong, Flowey?”

Flowey looked up at Papyrus, surprised.

“What? Oh, Papyrus, sometimes it’s easy to forget you can read me like a book. It’s fine, though.”

“Really?”

Neither of them said anything, and Papyrus didn’t take his eyes off the flower.

“Okay, fine. It bugs me that Undyne thinks she’s doing you a favor with all this spaghetti nonsense, because she really isn’t.”

Papyrus blinked.  
  
“Wait, what?”

Flowey looked guilty.

“Okay, well… you didn’t hear this from _me_ , but… you know Undyne’s kind of wasting your time, right?”

Papyrus looked at Flowey.

“Wasting my time? I mean, I’ll admit I don’t know what spaghetti has to do with being in the Royal Guard, but I always kind of assumed it was like in that human documentary where the old man taught the young human martial arts through mundane tasks like washing his car.”

Flowey didn’t say anything, just raised his eyebrows and tilted his little floral face forwards to look up at Papyrus at an angle.

“Okay, fine, when you make me say it out loud it sounds like I’m kidding myself. But - Undyne’s really cool! Why would she lie to me?”

Flowey sighed.

“You know… it’s kind of hard to explain, but. Let’s say, hypothetically, I asked you to help me learn how to make puzzles, but I was totally hopeless at it. Everything I made either had an obvious solution, or was literally impossible to solve. What would you do?”

Papyrus narrowed his eyes.

“Are you saying I’m hopeless at being part of the Royal Guard?”

“What? No, I think you’re actually really capable and cool. The important part of the analogy is… would you start a book club with me and tell me it was so I could learn important puzzle skills?”

“No! That would be pointless. I would probably tell you that your puzzles had problems, and help you work on them!”

Flowey chuckled, shaking his petaled head.

“Right. But even if it was obvious that the _last_ thing I should be doing is making puzzles, you wouldn’t string me along, right? You’d tell me straight up.”

“Obviously?”

Flowey sighed.

“The truth is, Undyne doesn’t have any intention of _ever_ letting you into the Royal Guard. But she thinks that if she told you that, it’d break your heart or piss you off. And she really does think you’re a cool guy - nice and clever and determined! She wants a reason to spend time with you.”

“Then… why wouldn’t she let me into the Royal Guard? Or tell me that she can’t do that?”

“She probably doesn’t want you to get hurt.”

Papyrus looked at Flowey. He’d roll his eyes, if he had pupils.

“Come on, Flowey, I’ve seen everything that the Royal Guard does. Half of them just stand around watching for humans, and I’m pretty sure Greater Dog and Lesser Dog think the whole thing’s a big game.”  
  
Flowey laughed.

“You’re right about that, Papyrus, but tell me something. Would you kill a human?”

“W-what?”

“You heard me. Would you kill a human?”

“Um! I… I would capture a human, and I know that you can’t take a human’s soul and still, uh. Keep them alive.”

“But would you kill them yourself?”

“Flowey, I don’t see what this has to do with the Royal Guard. Are you telling me Doggo and Dogamy and Dogaressa and everyone else _would_ kill a human?”

“Honestly? Yes. They would. They’d probably want to capture a human first, but they don’t have the same control over their magic as you do. And besides… what if that human killed monsters first? What if they’d killed everyone in Snowdin, and you were the only one standing between them and Waterfall? What would you do then?”

Papyrus shifted nervously.

“I’d- do I _have_ to kill them? What if I could stop them some other way? Is that really why Undyne won’t…?”

Flowey sighed.

“Look, I’m sorry for putting you on the spot like that. You don’t _have_ to kill anyone. Honestly, I think it’s admirable! You aren’t naïve enough to think that there’s no reason for _anyone_ to kill, but you still stand by your own personal principles.”

“Okay, but… is that really the only thing that’s keeping me from the Royal Guard? Not wanting to personally kill humans? I could be the very best at _capturing_ humans and delivering them to the king, and she still wouldn’t let me in? That makes no sense at all!”

Flowey looked away, and Papyrus started to regret the path the conversation had taken. It wasn’t like Flowey was personally responsible for deciding who was in the Royal Guard. Papyrus was about to change the subject, to offer to talk about something else, when Flowey finally spoke up.

“Papyrus, what do you think is going to happen when we get that last human soul?”

“Asgore’s going to break the Barrier, of course.”

“Right. And what do you think is going to happen on the surface? Considering the last time monsters lived on the surface, the humans started a one-sided war and banished the survivors underground?”

“… We’ll have a competent ambassador to ease tensions and ameliorate any worries that the humans still may have about monsters stealing their souls to cause massive destruction?”

“Papyrus. You’re kidding yourself again.”

“Well, why are we acting like it’d be an instant massacre, anyway? It’s been thousands of years! Do humans still even know that monsters _can_ absorb human souls? Or even that we exist?”

“Right, because a horde of monsters emerging from an underground cavern after thousands of years _isn’t_ something totally horrifying that would make the humans lash out with everything they’ve got.”

Papyrus opened his mouth, and then remembered that Flowey had first hand experience with exactly this scenario.

“… Okay, point. But I still don’t see why not wanting to kill humans, Underground or on the surface, means that I can’t be part of the Royal Guard.”

Flowey looked uncomfortable again, but was quicker to speak up.

“I mean, Asgore’s changed his mind since then, but… when I died, he was _furious_ . He declared an outright war on all of humanity, was completely set on absorbing the souls and becoming a god and… making the humans pay. I don’t even know if it was for what they did to _us_ , or what they did to _me_. Maybe both? But it made the kingdom bounce back from basically the biggest tragedy since the first war. I mean, that’s the only reason Asgore hasn’t repealed the law that all humans must die. Because he thinks it’ll make everyone think he’s given up hope. And he can’t afford for the kingdom to fall into despair again.”

Papyrus frowned.

“So what you’re saying is… if I was part of the Royal Guard, I’d be expected to be part of an anti-human army once we got to the surface?”  
Flowey nodded.

“You see why Undyne doesn’t want to let you in?”

Papyrus sighed.

“Yeah. I’m still mad that she lied to me about it, and acted like she would’ve given me a chance if I was stronger, but I understand now. Thanks, Flowey.”

Flowey frowned.

“Well, golly, Papyrus, I’m really sorry I had to be the one to break this news to you! Here I was, thinking we could have a fun chat, but then I went and made it depressing.”

Papyrus laughed quietly, shaking his head.

“It’s not your fault. And I’m glad you explained it. Can you imagine if I _only_ found out that she was keeping me out of the Royal Guard on purpose?”

This earned a laugh, and Papyrus relaxed.

“Thank you for telling me, Flowey. I… think I’m going to have to think about this. Alone. See you later.”

The two of them exchanged strained smiles, and Flowey slunk back into the snow. Papyrus turned around again, staring at the puzzle. He wasn’t really in the mood for puzzles anymore. With a sigh, he walked away. He might as well head home now.


	2. Justice

Papyrus opened his front door, stomping the snow off his boots. Sans was dozing on the couch as usual, hand in a bag of chips. Papyrus sighed, distracted from his own troubles for a moment. What was he going to _do_ with that skeleton? For crying out loud, the bag wasn’t even _spelled_ correctly.

Normally, he’d wake his brother up immediately, grousing that it was half past three in the afternoon, which was no time for sleeping! But he was feeling uneasy. Why did everyone he knew _hide_ things? Sans and Flowey were far from forthcoming, but as frustrating as it was, at least Papyrus could tell both when they were dodging and that they had reason to do so. It wasn’t like he couldn’t relate.

But Undyne? Loud, brash, in-your-face Undyne who prided on saying whatever rough-hewn rude remarks popped into her head? Why would she lie to him – more than that, string him along – for the sake of preserving his feelings?

Sans shifted uncomfortably on the couch, recapturing Papyrus’ attention. He dragged his hand out of the bag of “popato chisps”, rubbing his eye sockets.

“… Morning, bro. Something wrong?”

Papyrus snorted. When it came to hiding feelings, he and Sans might as well be two peas in a pod.

“It’s half past three, Sans. Shouldn’t you be at your station?”

“C’mon, you know me better than that.”

Papyrus huffed, but the incredibly predictable response made his jaw tug into an involuntary grin.

“I didn’t ask what you normally do at this time, I said that you _should_ be at your _station_.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll get going. Just as soon as I’m done with this snack. Wouldn’t want it to go cold.”  
He winked, making a show out of digging around in the bag. Papyrus would’ve bet real gold the bag was long empty if it wouldn’t be suckering some poor fool out of their money.

“Ugh. Just make sure you throw it away when you’re done. And not in the fridge!”

“Sure thing,” mumbled Sans, and closed his eyes. Papyrus stood there a few more moments, shaking his head, then turned to climb the stairs. If he hadn’t sounded so obviously noncommittal, Papyrus would’ve resigned himself to the bag never finding its way to a trash can.

Once he was in his room, he sighed. He had a lot more to deal with than he had this morning, and he wasn’t sure what to do. Flowey had helped the best he could, he supposed, but there was only so much he could do. He’d consider telling Undyne about how he felt, but her actions were the source of his problem in the first place. He needed to sort through his complex feelings _before_ he took action, especially since he was still annoyed and didn’t want to act rashly.

What about his brother? Papyrus frowned, sitting heavily on his bed. That probably wouldn’t help either. It wasn’t that Sans didn’t respect him as an adult, for all that he made jokes like saying “when I was your age” rather than “last year”, but neither of them liked to talk about death, about killing. Hell, Sans would probably encourage him to pretend he’d never found out, for Undyne’s sake. And that simply wasn’t an option.

He lay back, staring at the ceiling. It wasn’t _just_ the lying that was bothering him, really… that was an interpersonal issue that could probably be worked through once he got a commitment from Undyne to be fully honest with him. But, as much as he didn’t really want to think about impending human/monster war, that same reluctance to think about it was a sign he really _should_ think about it.

It could happen any day, really. There was no pattern to the humans falling, as far as anyone could tell. A couple had fallen within months of each other, according to the historical record, but usually it had taken years. And it had certainly been years since the _last_ human had been collected… longer than any period of time that passed between any of the other humans. It was certainly outside of living memory, for most everyone who wasn’t immortal like Asgore.

So sometime, sooner or later, a human would fall. They’d be delivered to the capital to be killed, Asgore would collect their soul, and with that soul and the other six, monsterkind would be free.

And then _another_ war would happen, if Flowey and everyone who’d been planning for exactly that their whole lives were right. And no matter how prepared the monsters were, no matter how godlike the king was, Papyrus had the feeling it wouldn’t end well for monsterkind. And even if it did? He couldn’t see the annihilation of humanity as a favorable outcome.

A thought struck him, insidiously horrible and tempting at once: what if the Barrier _didn’t_ get broken? It was horrible to damn monsterkind to _eternal_ imprisonment, but was that any worse than the imminent eradication of an entire species? Would it _really_ be so bad if something happened to the six collected souls? And just as the seventh (… well, eighth) human would inevitably fall, wouldn’t more fall after that? Until there were seven more souls collected? And maybe, after another hundred years…

No, that was unrealistic. What could possibly happen to make it any different for the _next_ seven humans? The image of walking up to Asgore and asking him politely to reverse a decision he made hundreds of years ago popped into his head, and he snorted aloud.

There _was_ a more direct action he could take, he realized, remembering Flowey’s firsthand account of a story every monster knew by heart. _Could_ he…? It was a little alarming, really, but no less enticing. The verbal picture Flowey had painted made the experience sound absolutely thrilling, even despite the circumstances surrounding it.

But was that really a good enough reason to do something that was probably extremely illegal? The notion that it would _delay_ , not even prevent outright, a war? He couldn’t in good conscience decide to just _let_ the next human get killed so their soul could act as the last piece of the…

Their soul. That was the crux of the matter, wasn’t it? Chara had been _awake_ when Asriel absorbed them… who could say the same didn’t apply to the six souls already collected? And they’d been there for hundreds of years, trapped in jars. When he thought of it _that_ way, it was almost hard to believe he hadn’t decided to do this ages ago.

If he was going to do this, though, _how_ would he? The solution seemed simple on the surface: use a shortcut to bypass all the fiddly tidbits like confronting Asgore about the souls, or dealing with what would happen when the king inevitably declined his request. But there was the small matter that Papyrus didn’t actually _know_ where the souls were stored. He could guess, of course – they were probably somewhere in the castle. But the castle was pretty big, as befitted a castle. Would Asgore keep them in his personal quarters? The throne room? Right by the Barrier itself? Papyrus supposed he _could_ simply shortcut all over the castle experimentally, but that had the potential to end in an uncomfortable situation.

He could ask Flowey. He _was_ pretty knowledgeable about Asgore. But even _he_ hadn’t been able to narrow down their location, despite being Asgore’s son. And… even though Flowey seemed to be intensely interested in what Papyrus did, Papyrus couldn’t shake the suspicion that Flowey would be annoyed at Papyrus’ instant success at a task Flowey had struggled with.

Papyrus sighed. This was just another thing he’d be doing alone, then. It wasn’t too surprising, really, but it was a little disheartening. It was frustrating to know the end goal, but not how to _get_ there… which would make a shortcut perfect, but that brought him back to the original problem: he didn’t know where the souls were kept, and _definitely_ hadn’t been to see them before.

He wondered if he could target them directly. Find the plaque in Waterfall that detailed the seven souls necessary to break the Barrier between the humans’ surface world and the monsters’ subterranean prison and simply… clip through. No, it would probably be better to be in the castle when he started, and there was no sense using shortcuts to _supplant_ more conventional means of travel. He didn’t want to turn into his brother, after all.

He stretched out, then sat up from his racecar bed. If he wanted to carry out this plan, he’d best get going. No time like the present, right? He walked right out the front door, glad that Sans was _finally_ out of the house. It would do his brother some good to do actual sentry work, for one, but he also didn’t feel in a very talkative mood, and he didn’t want Sans to notice that something was up. Not that he normally said anything when something _was_ , but now it was especially important he get going. After all, those human souls weren’t going to free themselves!


	3. Bravery

Papyrus briskly made his way past the library and through the quiet neighborhood to the river, telling the cloaked monster in the boat without preamble that he wanted to go to Hotland. They nodded (as far as he could tell through that hood) and set off. About halfway there, as they passed the Waterfall stop, the river person stopped their humming.

“An odd destination, for one so opposed to conveyors and vents.”

The comment took him off guard, and he nearly fell out of his seat onto the floor of the boat.

“Oh! Well! Actually, I don’t plan to _stay_ long in Hotland. I’m just passing through to the capital.”

If the boat person hadn’t been facing away from him, he’d’ve suspected they were giving him a pensive look under their hood. Instead, he could tell himself they were simply focusing on the task at hand. It was comforting when they started humming again.

He quickly thanked them for the help as he disembarked the doggy craft. They gave him a simple tra-la-la and sat down, pulling out the latest edition of _MTT Magazine_. At least the Hotland ferry stop was so close to the L1 elevator stop and he’d be able to cut straight to the MTT Resort, where the elevator to the capital was. Papyrus sure was glad there was a reliable public transit system in place Underground! Imagine having to navigate the CORE every time you wanted to get between Hotland and the capital. Not that Papyrus didn’t appreciate a good maze, but he was a skeleton on a mission.

It seemed like Papyrus had picked a good time of the day to embark on his urgent goal, because it felt like there were only a half dozen monsters milling around the normally-packed lobby. Of course he gave a friendly wave to all of them. None of them were familiar, so it wasn’t like _they’d_ notice he was particularly focused on the task at hand.

The elevator doors opened and a handful of monsters got out. Glad to be the only one getting _on_ the elevator, Papyrus let out a quiet sigh as the doors slid shut and he felt the elevator start whirring along the track to New Home. Sometime between here and his bedroom he’d started getting incredibly antsy about what he was doing. Was he _really_ doing this? Did he _really_ think it would work? What was even the point of it all if he wasn’t even going to _do_ something with the souls?

But then he reminded himself: those weren’t abstract glowy doodads with only one use. They were _people_ , six little kids all alone in jars for years and years with no sign of freedom. And he was going to rescue them from all that. It was the right thing to do!

The elevator came to a stop, and the doors slid open. He stepped out into the bustling room where the doors opened, letting the small crowd of monsters pour into the returning elevator to Hotland as he made his way to the castle elevator. He could feel eyes on him as he stood in front of the elevator doors – he’d never been all the way out here, and most of these monsters probably _worked_ here. He wasn’t alone this time as he entered the elevator, but he was too tense to say anything. The other monster didn’t seem to care.

They parted ways from there, his brief companion taking an exit that led downstairs to the city ground level. Papyrus, instead, followed the hallway until he came to another door.

The room inside was breathtaking, and he stopped in surprise. While the rest of the capital was neutral toned, nearly monochrome, _this_ room was steeped in gold. It gave the impression of sunlight, from the way the human books that survived the watery trip into the Waterfall garbage dump described it. It reminded him of Flowey’s golden petals, even, though Papyrus suspected Flowey’s reaction if he told him that would be somewhere between a roll of the eyes and an outright laugh. Papyrus stepped forward, gaping at the gleaming stained glass windows, the vibrant tiles, the pillars that cast thick shadows along the floor. He wasn’t sure if it was just the color palette or an actual temperature difference, but this room felt _warmer_ than the hallway immediately preceding it.

He wondered what the purpose of the room was, and why it felt so disused. It wasn’t exactly _dusty_ , but there was a still air that gave the impression of a place that only had people in it infrequently. There weren’t any seats or signs of a now-dismantled podium, so it probably wasn’t a meeting hall. Perhaps it had initially served a social function? He could imagine Asgore cheerfully hosting parties in here – dances even. Maybe even when Flowey had been alive as Asriel.

The sobering thought reminded Papyrus he wasn’t here to sightsee. He propelled himself through the golden corridor with a newfound purpose, frowning in disappointment when the long, narrow hallway beyond the exit was just as drab as the rest of New Home. Still, he proceeded forward, turning right, and paused again. The throne room was a little farther forward, to his left, but the hallway continued and made a turn to his right. What could be back there? Curiously, he stepped forward, finding a hallway just as long as any of the others before. This one, though, led to a steep staircase, and when he got to the bottom of that and turned left, he gasped.

Coffins.

There were seven of them, each emblazoned with a stylized heart. Papyrus leaned over to read the inscription on the red one: “Chara.” A chill ran up his spine… was Flowey’s sibling here? At least, was their body here? He was sickly tempted to open the lid and peer inside, but… that’d be rude, wouldn’t it? They were probably nothing but dry old bones by now, maybe burial clothes if those hadn’t decayed as well. Plus, he had the feeling that if he _were_ to take a look, a castle worker or Asgore himself would walk in just as he was lifting the top off.

Papyrus was about to turn and leave the memorial room, but a thought struck him: what if the souls were here? Kept underneath the coffins for safekeeping? How would he be able to tell? He paced in front of them, looking absently at the rainbow they made, but nothing seemed to indicate the souls. He wasn’t even sure if they’d feel like anything from afar – a sense of presence, maybe? But how would he tell that wasn’t just his own imagination acting up?

He decided to check out the throne room. He’d come back here later if he wasn’t able to find them. He gave the coffins a little awkward wave, then headed back to the throne room the way he’d come.

Papyrus paused at the alcove. What would he do if Asgore was sitting in there? Shortcut behind him and hope it confused him? Pretend he was lost? Brazenly tell him that he was planning to steal the souls? Maybe he could play at a simple curiosity. It wasn’t like _most_ monsters wanted to take a human soul for themselves, at least as far as Papyrus could tell. Everyone was busy rooting for Asgore to use all seven to destroy the Barrier and unleash hell on humanity.

And then he entered the throne room, and it was even more surprising than the golden corridor had been. The wall was the same warm marigold, and there were _flowers_ here, not just in pots but actually growing out of the floor. The entire room was practically choked with the golden blossoms, all except for a small circle around the unoccupied throne. Papyrus stepped through the empty room, careful not to crush too many flowers underfoot, until he got to the throne. There was a note on the seat – _Howdy! I’m out visiting Waterfall. If you need anything, I’ll be back at five._ Papryus immediately looked up, but there were no clocks in the room. He’d have to assume Asgore was almost back, then. He walked past the covered throne in the back corner and into a dark, cavernous room.

It was only a “room” in the sense that Snowdin Town was in a different “room” than Hotland was. But rather than attempting to create a sense of being outside, like the forest in Snowdin or the sprawling capital city, this was simply one part of an underground cave, illuminated only by light (was it _sunlight_?) streaming in from a hole in the ceiling. Papyrus stepped into the “spotlight”, squinting up, but the light was bright enough to hurt. He stepped back into the darkness, letting his vision adjust.

There was a rough hallway, with pillars at the other end. Papyrus hurried along, feeling like if he had organs his heart would be pounding in anticipations. He steeled himself, stepped into the room, and was nearly blinded by a brilliant wall of light. He shielded his eye sockets, squinting, but it was as painful as the light from above in the other room.

After a minute of standing there, trying to get a better look at the light source, his vision slowly adjusted and he realized it was gently pulsing. Covering his sockets with a mitt and keeping his gaze fixed on the brightly-illuminated floor, he stepped forward nervously.

Until he couldn’t step forward anymore. It was like a solid wall of air – he could feel a gentle breeze from the other side, but if he tried to pass through, it simply did not yield.

This must be the Barrier, then. He stopped trying to walk through the magical seal and stepped back, turning away. He was mostly used to the brightness, but it was still easier to look at the naturally-dark stone illuminated by the Barrier’s glow than to look directly at the Barrier itself.

With a sick twist of curiosity, he wondered if he could shortcut past the forcefield. Just walk through the archway back into the castle and come out on the other side. It was a ridiculous notion – as lazy as his brother was, Papyrus couldn’t deny his inventiveness, and if simply shortcutting through would have worked, Sans would have found out and come to tell him, and then they’d be free.

Still… it was worth a try. He shut his sockets, focusing on the space-sense that let him walk on air, make safe landings after ridiculous jumps, and find spots that would allow him to step through to a faraway destination. Sure enough, the Barrier was even more forbidding of passageway than regular space was – one way, at least. Curious, he took a closer look, magically, at the construction.

It seemed like it was even simpler than a complete two-way wall would have been – while an irresistible counterforce against crossing either way would have created instability in the center, the one-way wall didn’t have any such weakness, and the only way to undo it was to meet it with a force equal to that of its creation, just directed the other way. It could be _disrupted_ with a magical force much smaller than that – just a little greater than a single human soul – but that seemed like a loophole inherent to magical design (for how could you create a truly impenetrable wall? A truly inescapable prison?) that happened to be convenient for monsters with access to a single human soul.

It was quite elegant, really, and almost kept Papyrus from noticing the _other_ tangle of magic in the room. But now that he was focusing on his meta-senses, it was unmistakable. He probed the other magic spell – this one was both less tidy and weaker than the Barrier. It wasn’t even made with human soul power, but the sense of human souls he’d picked up from studying the Barrier briefly was now familiar to him, and he recognized at once that it was a locking mechanism tied to Asgore’s magic to keep the human souls safeguarded. No wonder Flowey hadn’t been able to access the souls! He didn’t have a soul with the same properties as Asgore, and killing the king wouldn’t have unlocked the spell, or left him with a way to do so.

At least, without metamagic like what Papyrus (and, he supposed, Sans) possessed. He grinned even wider than what was natural for his skeletal features and got to work picking the magic lock. It was trickier than he expected – Asgore was clearly an accomplished magic user.

But Papyrus had a keen sense for how magic itself worked, not just spells, and he made relatively short work of the spell. He felt a _little_ bad that he ended up more or less completely demolishing it. It was quite lovely spellcraft, and now it was useless. Then again, given Papyrus’ end goal, the locking spell would’ve ultimately become useless anyway.

Papyrus opened his sockets as the seven glass jars, gleaming in the reflected light from the Barrier behind him, rose from the ground. Six of them had a single heart floating inside them, with the center one empty. Papyrus noticed that these, too, were arranged in a rainbow, but instead of the (hypothetically, at least) red one being at the opposite end of the purple one, the empty jar bridged the gap between purple and orange.

The jars were sealed with another layer of magic, but this one was much simpler than the initial locking mechanism. Either Asgore hadn’t considered the possibility of someone else accessing the jars, or they’d been deliberately designed so others could open them.

With a moment’s thought, they were open, and Papyrus was struck by an unexpected sense of heat. It was like the jars had contained six little flames, and he’d unleashed the warmth all at once. In unison, the souls floated out of the jars, bobbing slightly in the air as they’d done inside their containers.

Papyrus noticed that he could _feel_ them, on a deeper level than tactile. It was like there were six anchor points in his soul, six lines radiating outwards towards the preserved essences of the six humans. And once he became aware of that, he saw that the souls were starting to move along those lines – at first slowly, hesitantly, but then more steadily when he picked up on the movement. Within seconds they were in front of him, orbiting a point some six inches in front of his chest like a ferris wheel.

Papyrus’ soul felt like it was glowing with heat, just like the human souls, and he experienced a thrill of anticipation, of nervousness – was he _really_ going to do this? Were his reasons sound? Would it hurt? Flowey hadn’t mentioned anything of the sort, but he’d _died_ immediately afterwards – it probably hadn’t even registered, even if it did hurt. Still, it wasn’t like Flowey was one to omit little details like that – it was his talent for weaving evocative stories that had drawn Papyrus to see him as more than someone who happened to know an awful lot about a variety of diverse topics.

Papyrus steeled himself once more. He _was_ going to do this. These humans had been trapped for years and years, after all, and he was going to _help_ them. As soon as he’d resolved the thought in his mind, the souls glowed even hotter and started pulling inwards to the point they’d been orbiting, and he lifted his hands, pushing them towards his own.

For a moment, nothing happened.

And then it felt like six white-hot daggers had been thrust directly into his soul. There was magma in his marrow, his bones were crumbling to ash, he was  _ melting _ . The heat seemed to last forever, but he forced himself to think  _ through _ it. It wasn’t  _ painful _ , it was just  _ hot _ . He could endure this!

As he forced the haze (the smoke?) in his thoughts away, he realized he’d fallen onto his face. Had he lost consciousness? It had certainly been an intense experience, and it didn’t seem to be relenting. Flowey hadn’t mention that human souls  _ burned _ , though if Papyrus had thought about it between noticing that the decanted souls exuded warmth and cramming them into his own body, he would have decided it was a logical conclusion.

He sat up. At first he was gentle about it, but then he realized that moving did nothing to the heat. It didn’t relieve it, of course, but it certainly didn’t  _ exacerbate _ it. Okay. He could deal with that.

Thinking about the reason he’d come out here in the first place made him start to worry. From the way Flowey had put it, Chara had been present – had been able to actively commandeer control of Asriel’s body – from the moment Asriel had absorbed their soul. Papyrus certainly didn’t feel any sense of presence, much less someone  _ else _ moving his body around.

His body! Though the heat hadn’t subsided, he’d been able to distract himself from it, and he hadn’t given any thought to the actual physical state of his body. But his bones looked like they really were melting, cracking under the heat. It was starting to get painful, actually, and he dropped to the cold rocky floor again.

He wasn’t going to die. Flowey had made it quite clear – aside from the traumatic experiences, the act of soul absorption itself was exhilarating. But why wasn’t Papyrus in on the fun? He thought back to what he’d read up on souls. The records had been sparse, but…

It hit him, and he felt a little ridiculous. Absorbing a human soul triggered a  _ transformation _ . He’d been trying to hold in the pure transformative energy of not just one soul, but  _ six _ . If he just  _ embraced _ it, then…

He paused.

He really should just let the flames consume him, let them change his body into a form more suited to containing all the magical power of the human souls. But he remembered the unsettling drawings, remembered Flowey’s account of how the humans had been horrified to see the result of his and Chara’s souls even before they assumed it had killed an innocent child. And that had been with only a sixth of what he had inside his body now.

What would everyone else think? Would he even look like a  _ person _ , once he let the souls work their magic on his body? Or would he be a conglomeration of features, stacked onto an unfortunate creature too unwieldy to even move?

A crack opened along his femur, and he let out a howl of pain. This wasn’t  _ worth _ it. He’d have to let the transformation happen, and  _ then _ see about passing it off as anything but.

As he decided this, the pain seemed to subside all at once, consumed by the heat. He closed his eye sockets, overwhelmed by the feeling of power, but in a moment he understood what Flowey had meant. It was the difference between being immersed in a fire and being  _ made _ of fire, a radiant being of unbridled magical energy. Instead of consuming his bones, the fire poured out from him painlessly, and he was able to focus on standing again. But most importantly, he still felt like  _ himself _ . He could check out what had happened later, in a mirror. But for now, everything was okay. He sighed in relief, his mind now clear.

And then it wasn’t.


	4. Patience

There was little buildup – a sense of stirring from sleep, and then a sense of _waking up_ . But he could tell _he_ hadn’t been sleeping, and _he_ wasn’t waking up. It was all six of the people who now shared his body.

 _Am I a skeleton now?_ _I thought I stopped coming back._ _Where’s the king? Did he give up too?_ _Why am I tall?_ _Why am I thin?_ _Where is everyone?_ _Did I die for real?_

A cacophony of thoughts streamed through his mind, overlapping like different currents in a river. Or a deafening waterfall. There were six of them and only one of him, and he was starting to feel like he was drowning, like he was losing his sense of self. But he held onto that thought, even as the chorus of dead human children babbled around him, and they slowly died down as the rest of the souls realized they weren’t alone.

 _Who_ are _you people?_ seemed to be a common thread, and Papyrus decided to assert himself before everyone else started thinking over each other again.

_I am Papyrus! You’re the humans Asgore killed to break the barrier! I decided to let you out of the jars, because who wants to be kept in a jar? I sure wouldn’t! So now you’re all in here, with me._

The first thought that sprang forward as a reply was a sarcastic _Great, so now I’m being kept in a monster’s body. What an improvement!_ , but it was closely followed by an anxious _Wait, when was I in a_ jar? Papyrus brought his hands to his head and was surprised that there seemed to be no resistance. There was an uptick of confusion at that thought, and it started to dawn on Papyrus that he probably should have considered that his plan would involve six people suddenly being able to hear his thoughts.

_There are_ six _of us?_

_Yes, there are six of you._

I thought you needed seven.

_To break the Barrier, yes. But I’m not breaking the Barrier! I just thought – why would you keep someone in a jar? It’s not fair!_

_I’m more concerned about the part where he killed me._

_Well! It’s not like I could go back and undo that!_

Papyrus’ head suddenly swam as the six humans, together, focused on one thing: the desire to go back. And then, in unison, he felt their collective disappointment.

_I can’t go back!_

_“Go back?”_

_Yeah. It’s a human thing, I think. Toriel mentioned it._

_Oh, that explains why nobody seemed to remember much, if at all!_

_Remember much about what?_

_When I first came down here, I got killed in the Ruins. I was so scared, and then I…_

The thought stopped being a verbalization as Papyrus recalled, as vividly as an experience of his own, the memory of the child who’d been talking. They’d failed to dodge one too many Vegetoid bullets, they’d felt their soul shatter, and then the same burning sensation Papyrus had felt upon absorbing the souls had coursed through their body. And then they woke up in the bed of flowers they first landed on, and Toriel found them, acting exactly like she had hours before. They’d asked about it, and she had been confused…

Papyrus was brought out of the memory by the collective agreement of the rest of the souls. They had all discovered that, after being killed by a monster, rather than _staying_ dead, they’d come back to the same spot they had awoken when they first fell into the Ruins. And then Toriel would come out, just as she had the first time, and recite what she told them the first time. Word for word. One (he’d have to take their names) had immediately focused on the feeling that had brought them back the first time. True to form, Toriel had emerged from the Ruins, exactly as before, following seamlessly along the same script.

Resetting the timeline wasn’t a complete blank slate for the monsters – oftentimes bits of recollection would stick, but there wasn’t a definite pattern. It usually cropped up around the children’s responses to questions, or reactions to events.

Some of the children had started toying with the mechanism, exploring different outcomes of decisions. Others had quickly caught on that they could update the point on the timeline where they’d return to if they got killed and used it to avoid having to relive the same experience too many times.

Papyrus had never heard of this concept. It sounded interesting to him, though! Oftentimes, he found himself leaving a conversation with the feeling that it could have ended differently if only he’d said something different – imagine the possibilities he could unlock now! The humans seemed skeptical, for the most part.

_Okay, before we go any further I need to know your names! One at a time, please._

There was a moment of nervousness, one of the rare times the humans seemed to be unanimous. Finally, one spoke up:

_I, uh, didn’t like my name very much when I was alive, but you can call me “Sheriff”._

This opened the floodgates for the other humans, who all chimed in with, presumably, nicknames with much greater alacrity.

_You can call me “Red”, then._

_“Doc”, here._

_I’m… “Jack”._

_Call me “Rocky”._

_…“Kit Kat”._

And that was, apparently, that.

Next on the agenda, of course, was figuring out what exactly had happened to his body. Papyrus had seen the illustrations (the humans perked up) and couldn’t help but imagine himself as a horrendous, writhing mass of magical flesh. He didn’t _feel_ like something so amorphous, and from what he could see he didn’t _look_ like it. But he couldn’t _quite_ escape the feeling that every part of himself he _couldn’t_ see was horribly distorted beyond belief. The kids’ active imaginations certainly weren’t helping matters. He stretched his arm out… it looked like his clothes had been, not torn, but _burned_ when he transformed. Was that normal?

_Does “normal” really apply to this sort of situation?_

Rocky had a point, of course. So far, all signs were pointing to Papyrus needing to go and find Flowey, as he was the only one with any experience in absorbing souls.

One thing was for sure – even if he’d been willing to risk being seen in public without knowing for sure what he looked like, his clothes weren’t in any state to show the world. (This triggered a chorus of mental giggles, and the collective amusement was enough to make Papyrus laugh.) Of course there were plenty of monsters who ran around completely naked, and he didn’t exactly have any skin to show, but… it felt _weird_ to go around without any clothes on, or with his clothes in such disrepair.

Papyrus looked again at the Barrier. It was still bright, of course, but it didn’t _hurt_ anymore. Was that just him convincing himself that, since he now radiated human soul power, the Barrier wasn’t _that_ much brighter than he was?

That was probably a silly line of thinking, anyway. He stared at the shimmering wall of light, and curiosity began to itch at him. Would it _really_ work…?

He took a tentative step forwards, walking closer and closer towards the Barrier. The humans were unimpressed, apparently not having any experience trying to walk up to it and being stopped. Or, barring that, an entire lifetime of learning that it was an inescapable one-way seal. He was so occupied listening to their thoughts he almost didn’t notice when he simply…

Walked through it.

The other side didn’t feel too different, really. There was that same breeze of air… actually, it seemed like inert particles like air and dirt weren’t restricted from passing freely, just living beings. He waved his hand from one side to another, inordinately entertained. If he wasn’t trying to keep this incredibly illegal thing under wraps, he’d want to show all his friends how ridiculous it was, this fearsome thing so easily thwarted by…

By six dead children. His amusement faded, and he sadly stepped back into the Underground. No matter how interesting the Barrier was, the soul power was, it all looped back to something horrible, some sort of war crime. Still, at least Papyrus had done his part to rectify _one_ thing. He remembered Asgore was coming back soonish… better get out of here before he had to answer a bunch of questions.

That just left the matter of the empty jars. He _could_ just leave them, but that would raise suspicion. He supposed he could use this legendary power level for _something_ useful – he focused, and with a wave of his hand the jars sealed themselves and sank back into the ground. He grinned – it felt _good_ to use magic, like tapping his feet or cracking his joints or sitting on his legs. And he certainly had a _lot_ to spare now.

The humans seemed impressed too. Doc, in particular, wanted to know how _everything_ magical worked. _What’s the difference between an attack and a spell? How do you do spells? How do you do attacks? Was that a spell, or was that just magic? Is there a difference?_

Papyrus wasn’t a school teacher, didn’t have much experience with young monsters, and didn’t have the words to explain what was an intuitive fact of life to everyone he knew – but it turned out he didn’t _need_ the words, as focusing on the concepts seemed to satisfy the curious human.

 _If you liked_ that, watch this.

Papyrus briskly turned to walk into the cave wall. The humans barely had time to question what he was doing before he stepped through a shortcut and emerged in his bedroom. He said nothing in response to the _How did you_ do _that?_ and _Can_ all _monsters do that?_ and _Does that work on both sides of the Barrier?_ , instead focusing on what he came here to do. After locking his door, he then consulted the time. 4:52 – he’d been out of the house for barely more than an hour.

_And Asgore will be back in eight minutes… No. He probably won’t check the souls, and he won’t suspect me even if he does._

Even though it was logical, he couldn’t make himself believe it very strongly.

Checking his new appearance was a welcome distraction. He opened his closet door, examining himself in the mirror that hung on the inner side. Surprisingly enough, in broad strokes he still looked mostly the same. A little taller, a good deal pointer in the teeth… he had pupils now. He leaned forward, examining the shimmering white dots. Were they… iridescent? He blinked experimentally, winked each eye, turned his head from side to side, entranced with the tiny points of light.

He couldn’t say the same for his poor clothes. They looked even worse in the mirror, his formerly robust battle body in singed tatters. Only his cape looked _better_ than before – it was longer, darker, thicker, even… feathery? He turned, seeing now that the outer side was lined with shimmering red feathers. It gave the impression of embers under coals, really, with the topmost feathers being a darker brownish ( _Kinda like dried blood._ ) red, and the ones that peeked out from underneath being more vibrant ( _Kinda like_ fresh _blood!_ ), more crimson.

Yeah, he was keeping the cape. But what was he going to do with the rest of the Battle Body? It was a _really_ nice costume, and it just plain felt _cool_ to wear. Like he was a superhero. It was also something Sans had contributed to sincerely, and it felt _wrong_ to discard a memento like that. He’d repair it, at the least.

The more he thought about it, the less he felt like he wanted to keep wearing it. It was comfortable, and it looked cool, but it was… a costume. From a party. He stripped down to his bones, then exchanged the tattered cosplay for some more casual clothes. Maybe those would even deflect suspicion that he was suddenly infinitely more powerful than before!

He lay the Battle Body carefully on the bed, humming as he used magic to repair the burns. It was soothing, really, feeling the massive reservoir of energy flow out as he put it to a real use. The humans’ wonder wasn’t exactly _diminishing_ , but they were becoming accustomed to the feeling of magic. It was becoming easier to focus, especially when the souls were bored with what he was doing, but he still felt a little out of it. It wasn’t that he was _woozy_ , per se – he was awake as ever. But when the humans started arguing, or even paying actual attention to his surroundings, his thoughts started to feel dizzily overwhelmed in the rising tide of six other identities.

At least it wasn’t too hard to tell them apart. Not since they introduced themselves, anyway. Doc and Red seemed to be the most prominent – well, that wasn’t right. The mental voices all had the same intensity compared to each other. But Doc was inquisitive, always curiously hovering right behind his mental shoulder. At first the constant sense of their _watching_ set Papyrus on edge, making him feel like they were judging him, but he was starting to pick up their curiosity at things without even a need for them to verbalize questions.

Red was as omnipresent as Doc, even if they didn’t seem to be as interested in uncovering every detail of Papyrus’ life. They just seemed to want to be _aware_ of everything going on around them. He had the feeling they’d be quickest to express disdain if he wanted to do something they disagreed with.

Right behind those two were Jack and Sheriff. Sheriff was nearly as invested in fiddly details as Doc was, but they had a more introverted bent and seemed just as concerned with internal thoughts and feelings as they were with external possibilities. Jack was a little harder to place, actually, as they seemed to vacillate between idly watching because there was little better to do and suddenly having their interest captured by something someone said.

Rocky and Kit Kat kept to themselves the most, for different reasons. Kit Kat seemed to hate the entire ordeal – and Papyrus couldn’t really blame them for not wanting to have six other people in their head. It was a little sad, really – they’d been so astute and aware in life, and now all they seemed to want was to go to sleep.

Rocky was less depressing – they just didn’t see a need to involve themselves in Papyrus’ life. They’d given up on life for a reason, and if they were being yanked back into it in someone else’s body, they didn’t think it really mattered if they gave input. It wasn’t going to change anything.

… Papyrus was glad he didn’t have to focus on those two, and that they preferred to be just outside the radius of his awareness – something he _could_ pay attention to, if there was nothing else more compelling. He regretted, a little, that he couldn’t put any of the souls _back_ , even if they would have preferred sleeping in jars. But he hadn’t had any way to know, in advance, that any of them wouldn’t want to live again, and he didn’t regret taking the chance.

He held up the repaired Battle Body, sans the cape he chose to keep wearing, satisfied in his work. He’d have to pull it out again the next time someone threw a costume party. He put it in the closet and closed it, turning to leave his room –

_ Aren’t you going to save first? _

Jack’s question took him by surprise.

_ Um. Why? _

_ Oh, you don’t _have _to, I guess. I just got used to saving every time I finished doing something I didn’t wanna have to do again, or before I left a safe area._

Papyrus frowned. That was… concerning. Still, he closed his eyes. What had they said? Focus on feeling determined? With a little assistance, he was able to find the right mental state, and he felt the world subtly shift without shifting. Sort of like a camera lens, he decided.

Now that he’d saved, he was ready to head out. It was time to talk to Undyne.


	5. Kindness

There were a few things Papyrus hadn’t realized would happen once he had the souls. Most obvious, of course, was the ability to save. But there were smaller consequences.

Namely, the magic buildup was  _hot_. He hadn’t realized at first, because he still felt the same to his own hand. But his breath was visible now, and snow seemed to melt in his presence. Luckily, it wasn’t very quick, or he’d never be able to hide it, but he’d have to avoid standing in one place for too long. 

He was relieved when he entered Waterfall. Even though he wasn’t looking forward to his upcoming conversation with Undyne, he felt that every heated footprint he left in the snow was incriminating, and he was glad that now his tracks were less visible.

His walk through Waterfall was quiet, almost meditative, as he listened to the humans. They were sharing memories, comparing their underground adventures. It was fascinating to Papyrus, and he wandered towards Undyne’s house on autopilot, trying to ignore the twisting gut  _( What guts?) _ sensation that was building as he tried not to think about what he’d say to her.

Finally, he reached the place where the little yellow bird waited, sitting serenely on the other side of the gap. Sheriff stopped in the middle of a story as he whistled and the bird took notice of him, fluttering across the water and alighting at Papyrus’ feet.

_ Ugh, you can just _call _that bird? I had to go the long way!_

Papyrus hid a snicker as he allowed the bird to carry him over. Normally, he’d just jump across  _( Oh, come on!) _ but at this point, he was looking for excuses to dawdle. But soon Undyne’s house was within sight, and there was nothing left to do but walk up and knock.

Undyne answered the door quickly, as always, and had an easygoing smile on her face.

“Hey, Asgore, did you forget somethi–”

The smile evaporated, and she actually took a step back.

“Papyrus?”

Papyrus tried to smile, but her reaction had punctured the bravado he’d been mustering the entire walk to her house. She seemed to notice that he looked dejected, and her startled, almost fearful look changed into a sympathetic, concerned one.

“Hey, dude. It’s, uh. It’s your day off. You don’t have to come in for training today?”

He shook his head, trying to dispel the awkwardness.

“No, no, I’m not here to train. I, just… wanted to visit.”

She looked surprised.

“Really? Well, okay! Asgore was just over for tea, actually. Do you want some?”

“Um. Sure!”

Undyne stepped away from the door, and Papyrus let himself in. Sure enough, the air in her house seemed to have a faint lingering smell that reminded Papyrus of the throne room. There was still a tea set on the table, even, with a half-eaten packet of crackers sitting next to one of the cups. Undyne hurriedly cleaned up, presumably, the dishes Asgore had used.

“Go ahead and sit down! Usually Asgore uses fire magic, but I can make the tea just fine on the stove.”

She still sounded nervous, and Papyrus wondered if she could tell what he was there for. Or maybe it was the change in appearance? Papyrus surreptitiously checked his reflection in the window. He didn’t look  _ that _ different, did he? Neither of them said anything as Undyne filled a kettle with water and set it on the stove. Finally, she turned around and took a seat opposite Papyrus.

“So,” she began. “What’s with the new look?”

“Well! I noticed my Battle Body was starting to get worn down, so I’m wearing regular clothes while I fix it!”

She waved her hand.

“Not the  _ clothes _ , the… the teeth, the eyes.”

“Oh, I… thought they’d look cool? Do they not?”

She looked at him, looking uneasy. He wasn’t sure why she seemed so  _ concerned _ … was she suspecting what he’d done? Had Asgore called to tell her the souls had gone missing? Was Asgore going to break into the room now and–

“Nah, they look cool. Just… I dunno, it’s not really the  _ look _ , but something seems… different about you, now. I’d say  _ sharper _ , but it’s not quite that. Anyways, you’re fine, I’m probably just being weird. What kind of tea do you want?”

She stood up to grab the box where she kept her tea, and Papyrus noticed a spike of guilty nervousness from Jack and Kit Kat. He mentally poked at it while she rummaged.

_ Um, I think I know what Undyne’s noticing. _

_ What is it? _

_ Well, before I died, I kinda… killed some monsters. And there were a couple monsters who seemed to be able to tell. _

_ You mean they could sense your level of violence? _

_ Yeah, that’s the word one of ‘em used. _

_ Undyne can sense it a little, but she’s not trained. My brother… _

Papyrus shifted in his chair, feeling very nervous. There was no way he’d be able to hide Kit Kat’s and Jack’s combined LV from Sans, no matter how low it was. And even though he’d be able to assure Sans he hadn’t  _ killed _ anyone, there was no other way he’d suddenly  _ have _ a level of violence.

“Earth to Papyrus!”

He snapped his eyes back up towards Undyne. Right, she’d asked him about his tea preferences.

“Um, I’m not picky. You can surprise me? If there’s any you’ve got a lot of?”

Undyne laughed, rolling her eye.

“Yeah, whatever. One cup of mystery tea coming up!”

_ What’s your brother gonna do? _

_ … Probably nothing serious? He’s my brother and he loves me. He might get mad, and he might call Undyne or even Asgore, but…  _ Sans _ wouldn’t hurt me. And not just because I can kick his tailbone. _

_ Is it too late to try and convince you to run away to the surface? _

Undyne turned around, a mug in each hand. She set one down in front of him, and held the other close to her chest, watching him with interest.

“So, Papyrus… what’s on your mind?”

He frantically composed dozens of innocuous responses in his mind.

“Are these cooking lessons  _ really _ going to help me get into the Royal Guard?”

Almost comically, she choked on a mouthful of tea.

“Uh…”

“Look, I– can you tell me the truth, please? Am I Royal Guard material? Do I even have the  _ potential _ ?”

Now it was Undyne’s turn to look guilty.

“Is this why you… updated your look?”

“No! That’s unrelated. I just… did all the dogs have this much training to do before you let them in? Or am I… level zero?”

Undyne sighed.

“Before I say anything, I want you to know I’m being honest when I say you’re  _ not _ level zero. You’re  _ really _ tough, and strong too! And if strength was all it took to make the Royal Guard, I’d’ve probably let you in the day after you asked. Because you’ve  _ been _ strong since the first day I met you.”

“So why  _ didn’t _ you?”

He felt a little mean, asking when he already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear Undyne explain for herself. It didn’t help him feel better, really, to watch her squirm.

“You’re… too nice. No, let me explain! I remember the first day you came to my house. And yeah, I was kinda pissed that you were knocking on my door at midnight, but when you showed me your stuff, I was  _ really _ impressed. So I decided to have a little chat with you. I was totally ready to offer you a position. But you started to remind me of Asgore. I can tell that you care a  _ lot _ , Papyrus, about a lot of things. And I just had this feeling that… I dunno how to explain it. I had this feeling that I should wait before I offered you a position. And…”

She groaned, putting her mug on the table and burying her head in her hands.

“I realized that you never struck ‘killing’ blows, even on dummies. And I kinda asked you a question offhand, I dunno if you remember it, but I asked why you always held back at the very end. And you said something about how you wanted to  _ capture _ a human safely. And… I realized you didn’t want to kill. How could I  _ make _ anyone do something like that?”

She sat up, looking at him.

“Are you mad at me? I know I should have just told you, but you were so  _ eager _ , and I didn’t wanna let you down.”

Papyrus sighed, sipping his tea.

“Not really. Not about not letting me into the guard, anyway. The part where you told me cooking lessons were warrior training, though…  _ that _ bothers me.”

Undyne nodded.

“I… I really  _ am _ sorry about that. Uh, if you want to keep up with them, though, I really did enjoy them?”

Papyrus laughed, finally feeling like everything was going to be okay. On an impulse, he saved.

“I’ll have to think about it! But I’ll keep you posted.”


End file.
